A clever stupid boy
by Sarasakgs
Summary: What if Harry finds himself in another world? His parents, his godfather are alive and he has a cute little brother. But, wait a minute, is he a Death Eater?
1. Default Chapter

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Harry's head hit the wooden floor hard. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck and thought he heard someone say :"Tripping one your own feet, freak?" But it was so faint... And he knew no more.

He awoke his head thumbing painfully. He opened his eyes, everything was blury. He reached for his glasses on the night-stand and put them on. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He tried to get up but his legs weren't able to carry him. Harry stood up but quickly sat down as his head began swimming. He waited for the world to steady. No sooner had his head cleared than his heart stopped beating.

It wasn't his room. It wasn't the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive. Not that this one was much different from his own, a bed, a desk under a sole window, which was giving sight on a garden and a wardrobe on a corner, but it was definitly a different place.

He was in a totally unknown place, his mind immediatly came to the only logical reason for him to be here. _Death Eaters_! A cold sweat was running down his back and his heart was beating very fast.

He took a deep breath. Calm down. You need to calm down. He had been kidnapped, there was no other explanation.

Harry began to doubt his own theory when he saw a wand on the desk. Surely Voldemort wouldn't be as stupid as to leave a wand in the very same room in which he was holding a prisonner.

Harry got up and headed toward the desk. As soon as he got a good view of the wand he understood it wasn't his own. Everything was so strange... He sat on the chair in front of the desk on put his head on his hands. He tried to remember what happened but the event were mixing in his head.

Flash-Back:

It was July 31 st. He was sixteen now but he did not feel any joy at all . He was still grieving over his godfather's death. His friends had sent him letters during the summer and he had recieved presents this evening but he didn't feel like opening anything.

Every three days he sent a small note telling them every thing was fine (even though he was not). Harry was suffering from painful nightmares and he avoided sleep.

As he returned from the bathroom his room wasn't empty anymore. A sole figure was sitting in front of his desk, his back toward Harry. He didn't lose time to think, he pointed his wand at the man and spoke in a calm voice in spite of his hammering heart.

"Turn slowly. Any brusk movement and I curse you into next week."

The figure turned toward him, it was an old man.

End of Flash-Back 

Harry sighed. He didn't seem to be able to remember anything beyond that point. He'd have to wait, the rest might come back later. He just wished that bloody headache would go away.

His stomach began to rumble and he realised how hungry he was. Thirsty too. Very thirsty. He needed water. Surely his "guardian" would be human enough to give him a glass of water. He knocked at the door and waited for whoever was on the other side to open it .

When nobody answered he tried the doorknob and was surprised to feel the door open. He grasped the wand and held it tightly as he ventured in the corridor, ready for whatever might happen.

He was creeping across the hallway, pausing every few seconds to listen, his head still throbbing painfully. Suddenly he heard a foot step on his right. He immediatly threw himself trough the first door on his left and shut it (very quietly mind you) behind him. He stuck his head at the door and heard someone walking past it and slowly fading away.

He leaned against the door, relieved. Examining his surrounding he saw he was in a small study. Mountains of books were lying everywhere. They were covered with dust, this room had not been used lately. Luckily there was a small sink in the corner and he was allowed to calm his thirst.

As he wiped his mouth he spotted one of the many dusty books. On the cover was written:" Potter family's photo-album". Harry was dumb-struck. What was _that_? It was certainly unexpected. Things were really becoming weird. What had happened? He _needed_ to remember.

Flash-Back:

The old man was speaking:

"Did you ever wish to meet your parents, young Harry?"

"How has it anything to do with you?" Harry replied sharply.

"Oh, it has _anything _to do with me , young man. Because you see I can make you meet them, in another world." The old man sounded amused

"In another world?" Harry repeated, not believing a single world this disillusioned old man was telling him.

"Yes in another world, boy, said the old man. He sounded delighted that Harry had understood this quickly, Of course it won't be your real parents, I'm sorry to say those one died fifteen years ago protecting you, but they'll be the closest thing you'll ever have"

"And why exactly would you do that?" This old man was completly crazy.

"Why is exactly the right question, young harry, but you will have to figure out the answer by yourself"

End of Flash-Back 

Well, it sure explained a lot. Whatever happened to him it seems to be the old man doing. He took the album and opened it. His parents were smiling at him. His mother was holding a baby in her arms. He flipped several pages and found a photo with his parents, himself and a little boy. He looked to be eight or nine while the little boy seemed to be six. His parents were smiling fondly at the six year-old. Harry had a stupid wide grin on his face but was sometimes glancing jealously at the little boy. Under the picture "Mom, Dad, Wiliam and Harry" was written.


	2. a step in the darkness

His parents were alive... Alive! And he had a sibling, a little brother named William. Could life become any more perfect?  
Yes it could, if Sirius was still dead in this world too, then life could be more perfect but he was probably alive, then life couldn't be more perfect.

Harry could see that the Harry on the picture hasn't got any scar on his forehead, then Voldemort couldn't have lured him in the Departement of Mysteries and nobody had been killed.  
Anyway he wanted to see Sirius now!

He wanted to scream both of joy and frustration. True, why was it always him who ended up in strange situations?  
He shut the album and sighed deeply. He needed to find a way to go back home, an aim he couldn't quite achieve in this small room. He stood up and headed for the door.

It was when he spotted a white sheet of paper lying under a bookshelf. He picked it up, it was a drawing. A very good one. It was a portrait Harry recognized at first glance. It could have been him but the man looked a little to old.It was his father, James Potter.

Harry was looking at the picture amazed, whoever had drown it he was quite skilled. He turned it over and found a signature in an awkward writing which was contrasting with the perfectness of the drawing: Harry Potter, seven year old.

Harry was bewildered: his couterpart realised this at on ly seven? This Harry is a much better person than I am, Harry thought bitterly, at least he didn't manage to kill his godfather.Harry's chest clutched with guilt, as it always did when he thought about Sirius.

The imperious need to see him overcame Harry. He opened the door and left the study only to stop in the corridor. It had not occured to him that he didn't know his way around the house. Welle, let's do it the logical way, Harry reasoned, usually kitchen are downstairs ( he was still hungry, you see) then he needed to find some stairs.

The person who walked past him earlier headed toward the right. To the right then. The corridor lead him to a huge stairecase, he still held his wand tightly as he climbed down. You never know what might happen, it could be a trap or a sick joke, in any case it never hurt to be careful.

No sooner had he reached the lower story than he heard sounds of a conversation and dishes being manipulated coming from the left. A laughter echoed through the hall. A laughter that ripped his heart with a mixing feeling of pain and joy. He leant back against a wall beside the doo and slid slowly on the floor.

He heard a feminine voice too. He recognized it immediatly, his mother's voice. He wanted to cry but he had learned the hard way that crying doesn't lead you anywhere. His uncle had been very persuasive while punishing him with his belt.

He gathered all his feelings, put them far inside himself, shook his head to clear it and stood up. He needed to act as if everything was normal, he'll decide after if it would be safe to tell his parents. He put the wand in his back pocket and checked it could come out easily.

He called for all his Gryffindor's bravery, took a deep breath and opened the door. As soon as it opened the conversation stopped.


End file.
